Giants’ ballpark name change not a reason for tears

1of7A home plate is emblazoned with the new name of the Giants ballpark after the team announced at a news conference the name change to Oracle Park in San Francisco, Calif. on Thursday, Jan. 10, 2019, ending a longterm relationship with AT&T.Photo: Paul Chinn / The Chronicle

2of7At top, Fans sign a commemorative banner at the 1997 groundbreaking at Pac Bell Park, the new Giants ballpark which would be completed in 2000. The ballpark became SBC Park, above, from 2004-2006 before it became AT&T Park.Photo: Mike Kepka / The Chronicle 2005

3of7A new banner is installed with the new name of the Giants ballpark, Oracle Park, in San Francisco, Calif. on Thursday, Jan. 11, 2018.Photo: Paul Chinn / The Chronicle

4of7Fans line up outside to enter AT&T Park, Monday, April 6, 2015, in San Francisco, Calif. The ballpark hosted a free viewing party for the season opener which was played between the San Francisco Giants and the Arizona Diamondbacks at Chase Field in Phoenix. The game was broadcasted at the ballpark's scoreboard.Photo: Santiago Mejia / The Chronicle

5of7A tarp with the stadium’s new name covers the pitcher’s mound and part of the infield before the Giants announce the name change to Oracle Park at a news conference in San Francisco, Calif. on Thursday, Jan. 10, 2019, ending a longterm relationship with AT&T.Photo: Paul Chinn / The Chronicle

6of7Giants president and CEO Larry Baer (left) presents personalized jerseys to Oracle CEOs Mark Hurd and Safra Catz at a news conference to announce that the name of teams ballpark will become Oracle Park in San Francisco, Calif. on Thursday, Jan. 10, 2019 ending a longterm relationship with AT&T.Photo: Paul Chinn / The Chronicle

Warning: Don’t get too attached to the new name Oracle Park for that pretty little ballpark at 24 Willie Mays Plaza.

If you stick around long enough, it, too, will change. Probably to some company that we haven’t heard of or that doesn’t yet exist.

There’s a small amount of handwringing over the fact that Giants fans will have to learn to say, “Oracle Park,” now that the new naming-rights deal with the technology giant goes into effect immediately, replacing the name AT&T.

But there are still “old-timers” who call the place Pacific Bell Park — even though that deal lasted only four years, from 2000 through 2003 before it became SBC Park (which probably never stuck because it was the name during the years for the team when BALCO seemed to be the Giants’ primary corporate attachment).

And there are plenty of other people around the country who — when hearing the name AT&T — think the speaker was definitely referring to the Dallas Cowboys’ monster stadium. Definitely a negative.

More on Oracle Park

Such is life in the era of naming rights. If you’re going to get sentimental about “AT&T” can you shed a tear over “Compaq Center at San Jose” which became “HP Pavilion” — which became SAP Center? If you frequent Southern California, are you upset that the Home Depot Center, which was recently the StubHub Center, is now Dignity Health Sports Park?

The only names worth getting sentimental about are the ones that have been around forever. Which is why I could never refer to Candlestick Park as Monster.com. Or to the Oakland Coliseum as O.co. Those corporate names replaced original, non-corporate names that had lasted seemingly forever and had housed plenty of fond memories.

If Lambeau Field became Kraft Cheese Field, there would be an uproar. Fenway is named after the neighborhood in which it’s located. Madison Square Garden, despite its initials, is not sponsored by Accent Seasoning but was named after James Madison, the fourth president of the United States.

If those venues ever tried to shove a corporate sponsor into their title, it would be roundly ignored. Just like it was with the ’Stick.

(What about Wrigley Field? That is the original corporate naming-rights venue, named after the chewing-gum magnate).

But AT&T? Forgive me if I can’t get forlorn about a name that I associate primarily with a long-ago landline.

And if this is the price we pay — sentimentality about a corporate name rather than our tax dollars to build luxury palaces for sports teams — so be it. The original “Pac Bell” naming rights, which the Giants sold for the relative pittance of $50 million back in 1996, helped pay for the ballpark to be built. That was revolutionary at the time, because the Giants were one of the first teams to understand that, if they wanted to stay in a great city where they belonged, they were going to have to find private financing.

It would be wonderful if the Giants named their stadium “Willie Mays Park.” Or the 49ers had called theirs “The Catch.” Or if the A’s new ballpark, wherever it might be, is Rickey Henderson Ballpark. But that’s not realistic. Not with the money at stake.

The Giants aren’t exactly hitting hard times, but they could use a cash infusion. There are empty seats, which means fewer $15 beers sold and, from this point of view, getting money from Oracle is better than getting money from the Raiders, who still might play there next season.

News of the name change filtered out Wednesday night at the Game Changers Awards at the Fairmont Hotel, where the Warriors’ table was right next to the Giants’.

“Could you pass the red? And your corporate name?”

Oracle clearly didn’t want its association with a local sports team to vanish, and placing it right next to the Warriors’ new home, smack in the heart of a thriving technology alley, seems a no-brainer.

The only reason the Oracle name has any sentimental value is because, thanks to the fans’ enthusiasm in Oakland, it became known as “Roar-acle.” The Giants had better step up their game or else their new park will be known as “Snore-acle.”

The Giants are happy that they have a new partner that has local ties, something that wasn’t the case with AT&T. And Oracle isn’t likely to vanish anytime soon, like a Blockbuster once did or maybe a Twitter could.

But who knows what will happen in a couple of decades? Some little start-up somewhere in Dogpatch that currently includes a ping-pong table, a beer cooler, three coders and four dogs could end being the next naming-rights giant, when this deal ends in 2038. Will we shed a tear for Oracle? Not likely.

Born in San Francisco and raised in Marin County, Ann Killion has covered Bay Area sports for more than two decades. An award-winning columnist and a veteran of 11 Olympics, several World Cups and the Tour de France, Ann joined The Chronicle in 2012. Ann has worked for the San Jose Mercury News, the Los Angeles Times and Sports Illustrated. She is a New York Times best-selling author, having co-written "Solo: A Memoir of Hope" with soccer star Hope Solo,"Throw Like A Girl" with softball player Jennie Finch and two middle-grade books on soccer, “Champions of Women’s Soccer” and “Champions of Men’s Soccer.” She was named California Sportswriter of the Year in both 2014 and 2017. She has two children and lives in Mill Valley.